I squirmed in my seat. Knowing that the order of participating voices was rounding the table in my direction, I looked for an escape route. The paper on the table in front of me stared up with the same unflinchingness I showed it in return. I knew I would be asked to share its contents

The alarm buzzed somewhere beyond my comprehension and wrestled me from my sleep. Weary, groggy, and just a big achy, I gathered myself up, and switched on the light. Shuffling to the kitchen, I started turning over in my mind the day’s to-do list: I need to first make coffee, I need to check to

I hold the plate delicately. It feels light in my hands, and yet bears an unspoken weight. I turn it carefully in my hands, intentional to make it accessible to all who approach. “This is body of Christ,” I say with familiarity and resonance. “It is broken for you.” The words fall familiar on our

“When most of us think about talking to kids about theology, we think of their view of God like a car sitting in neutral. It is easy to think that they will go about their lives unmoved until we push them along in the faith. As the most prominent and earliest influencers in their lives,

I pulled the hand weight up to my shoulder, letting out one last grunt. I eyed myself from every angle in the mirror-clad room, as sweat dripped from the tip of my nose. Putting the weights back in their place, I gathered my things from the shelf (I’ve never had enough patience for a cool-down

I love good design. I particularly love minimalistic design that is heaping with blank space. In the world of design, there’s a high value placed on blank space. Blank space is the intentional placement of empty spaces in any design piece (often called “white space” because they most often leave the white paper free of

The plump envelope sat on our kitchen counter taunting me. It’s shape and size set it apart from the bills and junk mail in the pile. I looked at it out of the corner of my eye, avoiding direct eye contact as if it was an old acquaintance I thought I recognized in public but wasn’t quite sure. Flipping

“It’s just not for me, I guess,” she said, shaking her head with resignation. The words fell from her mouth with a splat; they were deflated and her heart was fit to match. Between us sat an open Bible, a well-worn dictionary, two pens, and plenty of scratch paper. We were working through the Text

The only sermon I have ever left in tears was on Deborah. My husband and I were grateful to be a part of a church that worked through Biblical Text book-by-book and verse-by-verse, and as a church we were working through the book of Judges. When I turned to the Text for that morning’s